


Tout de Suite

by sunalso



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Croissants, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fancy Hotel, Fluff and Humor, Paris - Freeform, Season/Series 01, Ward Gets Punched, very light angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-19 12:44:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17001906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunalso/pseuds/sunalso
Summary: S1. AU from the middle of 1x20. Ward is a bad guy, he has Skye, and things look grim for the rest of the team. Coulson's hoping that he, along with what's left of his team, can pull out a win when they need it most. Fitz wants things to go back to normal, Jemma thinks he needs a salad, and they're both hoping no one minds they're boinking. With everyone heading to Paris, Coulson's crossing his fingers that he, his pilot, the one specialist he's pretty sure is still a good guy, and two horny scientists can save the day.A much happier, and smuttier, end to S1.Beta'd by Gort.





	1. Hold On

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pobmmm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pobmmm/gifts).



> Thank you a million times over to my Marvel Trumps Hate winner, pobmmm, and her wonderful prompt that made this fic possible! I hope you enjoy where I ended up running with it! Story-wise, I made a little room in the middle of the episode because, honestly, I'm supposed to believe there's only one secret SHIELD base?

Ouch.

Coulson had no idea what he was doing. Seeing someone who was a ghost from his past, or maybe he was the ghost, had thrown him for a loop and rebroken his heart. It hurt. Everything hurt.

The organization he’d dedicated his life—and now second life—to didn’t exist anymore and was being called a terrorist group.

Fury was dead. May was gone.

He had two scared kids to look after, who were currently trying to put at least part of the communications system back together, and a specialist who’d been in bed with the enemy. Only Trip hadn’t known that, and it was Ward who was the monster.

And the monster had Skye.

How had Coulson not known?

If he had a shot, Coulson wouldn’t hesitate. Ward was already dead to him.

Trip looked up from the computer he was convincing to run. “I don’t think glaring at that screen is going to make it work any better.”

“Don’t underestimate a good glare.”

Trip snorted. “I won’t, but don’t turn it towards Fitz-Simmons. They’ve got enough issues without thinking you're mad at them.”

“I’m not mad at them. And what issues, besides the obvious?”

Trip straightened up and studied Coulson’s face. “The ones,” he said, his voice low, “where they badly want to see each other naked but Fitz can’t figure out how to tell Jemma, and she hasn’t figured out how she feels at all.”

Coulson spun in his chair to look at his scientists. Fitz was stripping a wire, with another one held in his mouth, his expression one of concentration, but then he darted a glance at Jemma and his face softened. Jemma was fiddling with the components of a router but, without looking, she put a hand out and patted Fitz’s shoulder.

“Damn it,” Coulson muttered.

Trip went back to what he was doing. “Yeah, they’ve got it bad.”

Coulson sighed and started making a list of possible resources, places, and people. It was abysmally short.

Twenty minutes later there was a yip from Fitz that had Coulson spinning back around. Fitz was shaking his hand, but Jemma was grinning.

“There’s limited communications available, sir,” Jemma said.

“Nothing going out,” Fitz said, frowning at the tablet in his hand. “A few feeds from other hidden bases, though they look deserted, and a couple of links to the Bus. No voice. I think they’re flying out of Los Angeles right now.”

They had no way to intercept the plane. Coulson rubbed his forehead.

“What else can we do?” Fitz asked as he sent the feeds from his tablet to display on the monitors Trip had just finished repairing.

“Get some rest,” Coulson said.

Fitz shook his head. “I can help.”

“You can help better by resting.”

Fitz dropped the tablet on a desk with a clatter and stormed off, Jemma running after him.

“Don’t know if that was the best thing to say.” Trip looked in the direction Fitz and Jemma had gone.

“I need to not worry about the two kids here and focus on the one that’s missing. Jemma will calm Fitz down.”

“Yeah, but who’s going to calm her down?”

Coulson hunched his shoulders. Jemma would be okay. She was strong, and he’d make it up to her later. Methodically, he went through the links to the Bus. Nothing. He did it again. Then again. “There has to be something here. Skye would try to get a message to us.”

Trip sat heavily in a chair. “Maybe she can’t. Ward might have her pinned down pretty tight.”

“She’s smarter than him.”

On his fourth time through, Coulson saw an anomaly: a file that was larger than it should be. “There you are.”

He opened the file. It was all text from Skye, starting with her badge number and the date.

“What’s it say?” Trip asked. He was leaning forward now.

Coulson’s stomach flipped. “She says she’s stalling him. Took him to L.A. to decrypt the drive, but then altered the encryption instead. She’s playing it off as if she can’t decipher where she has to take the drive. When she figures out where she wants to lead him, she’ll let us know. They’re heading to refuel now, and she says she’s safe.”

Trip’s shoulders sagged. “I hope so.”

“Yeah, me too. But we need to trust Skye.” He set up the system to notify him if another file showed up in that folder.

“So how—”

An alarm went off. Coulson shot to his feet along with Trip, but then they both realized the noise was coming from one of the empty SHIELD bases that were displayed on the screens. The information in the corner of the feed said it was in Hawaii.

Trip switched to a camera that showed the front entrance. In horror, they watched the doors blow open, and soldiers rush in.

“That’s special forces,” Coulson said. “Not Hydra. What the hell do they want?”

General Talbot entered the base, accompanied by Maria Hill. Well, that answered Coulson’s question.

“What the hell?” Trip said.

Hill was talking with Talbot, then walked right towards the security camera. Her mouth moved once her back was to Talbot, right before the feed went dark.

Coulson stared at the screen. “She knows we’re here.”

“How do you figure that?”

“She said: ‘I’m stalling him, Phil.’.”

Trip crossed his arms. “This shit is getting old.”

“Tell me about it. We need to sit tight and wait until we hear from Skye. Hill bought us some time. Let’s hope it’s enough. You should get some rest too. I’m going to keep monitoring and see if I can learn anything else.”

“Good luck.”

****

Jemma hurt for Fitz. He was so miserable, sitting on the floor, his back against the wall of what looked like a laundry storage area. It was the first quiet space they’d found. There were shelves from floor to ceiling on two walls, both haphazardly crammed with blankets, sheets, and towels. Everything smelled like soap. The third wall had the door in it, and the fourth was brick, which Fitz was sitting against.  His arms were wrapped around his knees, which were pulled up, and his face hidden.

“Fitz?” she said.

“Just go away.”

“We both know I’m not going to do that.”

He glanced up at her. His cheeks were dry, but he looked miserable. It was far worse than that time he’d read the scores to an exam wrong and thought he’d failed. She sat down cross-legged, facing him. He was looking at her morosely.

“What did I do?” he whispered.

“None of us did anything. Ward is just a rat bastard who needs to be flattened.”

Fitz didn’t laugh. She knew he wasn’t asking just about Ward, but her answer would apply to his father as well.

“How could he…” Fitz’s head thumped back against the wall, and she winced.

“I’m not okay with this either. I haven’t made peace with or understood it. I don’t know how Ward looked us in the eye day after day, knowing we would most likely die.”

“Twat.”

She shook her head. “I agree.”

The intercom crackled overhead, and Coulson’s voice filled the room. “Fitz-Simmons, we got word—sort of—from Skye. She’s okay, for now, and is leading Ward on a wild goose chase. She’s going to update us when she can. So good news, we can get some rest. Try to sleep. Bad news, it looks like Talbot is searching for secret SHIELD bases. I think Maria Hill is doing her version of a snipe hunt with him, but we might have to move on short notice. So stay together. I’ll update you when we know more.”

Fitz sighed.  “Try to bloody sleep he says.”

“You should. We both should.” Jemma didn’t bother trying to smile. She was exhausted, and Eric’s death felt like more of her responsibility than it should. He’d been so nice and hadn’t rolled his eyes at her answers to his question too much. Add that to the sleep deprivation from the mission the night before, and she was nearly dead on her feet.

That was a poor choice of words.

“Where?” Fitz snapped. His crossed his arms and scowled.

“We could look for an unoccupied bunk—”

“And walk right into Eric’s? No thanks. He has family who are…” Fitz trailed off and scrubbed a hand over his face.

“I know, and I agree, not a good idea. But there’s plenty of blankets in here. We can make a sort of nest and curl up and wait until we hear from Coulson again.

“Fine, but I’m never sleeping, too much stuff swirling around.” Fitz waved his hand next to his head.

Jemma nodded in understanding, because she really did, and stood, helping him to his feet. His palm was warm against hers, and she held his hand for a moment longer than was necessary, trying to soothe him.

They raided the shelves, dropping quilts and sheets willy-nilly in a pile, along with a couple of stray towels. Jemma saved several puffy blankets to put on top once they’d lain down. There were even a few pillows that she stuffed into cases for them. When there was more or less a bed, Fitz kicked off his shoes and sat in the middle of it, his head in his hands.

Jemma felt powerless. There was no SHIELD anymore, their team was scattered, Skye was in danger, and Ward was…a complete wanker. How hadn’t she known? She sat down facing Fitz again.

“We really should try to rest. A few minutes napping on the Quinjet back from Portland doesn’t count. You’ll feel better once you have a sleep.”

“I’m not six, Simmons. I don’t need a bloody sippy cup and nap.” He sounded churlish. “Why don’t you go see if Trip needs to be bothered.”

Dear lord, Fitz wasn’t going to start in on Trip again, was he? What was Fitz’s problem? “Coulson told us to stay together, and I’m sure Trip can take care of himself.”

“And I can’t?”

“That’s not what I said, and you know it.” She was beginning to wish she had a candy bar stashed in her pocket. Fitz had every reason to be upset, but now he was snipping at her, and that usually meant he needed to eat something.

His fingers dug into his scalp. “I’m never going to be able to sleep. Just forget about that.”

“I am not.”

“I’ll be fine if you want to go do something else.”

“I’m sure but I’m not going anywhere. And not because I was told not to, but because where else would I be but right beside you?”

Fitz looked up at her, brow furrowed. His hair was in complete disarray from his worried hands, and she had to stop herself from trying to smooth it down. “Simmons?”

“I’ll be right here, with you. We can lie down, and you’ll know you’re not alone.” She scooted around until her side pressed against his and their legs were touching. It made her feel better, and she hoped it did the same for him.

“What are you doing?” he squeaked, and her heart sank.

“I’m trying to be comforting. Touch is comforting.”

He made a face but didn’t scoot away. “Shouldn’t you ask first?”

****

Fitz was sure he was the stupidest git on the planet. Possibly the solar system, maybe the entire universe.

Jemma was snuggled up against him completely of her own free will, and he was saying she needed to ask first. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Fitz?” Her hand gripped his bicep. “If you really want me to, I can set up my own spot on the other side of the room. I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m not…don’t go. Please.”

“Alright.” She leaned her head on his shoulder, and he felt like an idiot all over again. She was just as upset and traumatized as he was, but he didn’t have much left to offer her. He couldn’t say things would work out because obviously they wouldn’t, and nothing was even close being okay.

“Do you need something to eat?” she asked.

“I don’t think I’m going to eat ever again,” he grumbled.

“I could go and get us salads from the fridge.” He glanced down at her to see if she looked as mad as that sounded. 

“Yes, Simmons, it feels like the entire bloody world is ending and we don’t even exist anymore, but a bit of wilted lettuce and a sad tomato will make everything better.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’d be nutritious. We probably need vitamins and minerals—”

“You could roll a blasted ten-course meal with a chocolate fountain in here right now, and I wouldn’t be tempted. I’m not hungry.” More the opposite, his stomach felt like it might turn inside out.

She muttered something like ‘that’s a first’ but didn’t push her point. “Let’s lie down, then. Even if we can’t sleep, the rest will be good. Who knows when we’ll have another chance?”

“I don’t know if I can even do that.” Not to mention that if Jemma was planning to stay pressed against him while lying in what was more or less a bed, he would soon have other issues besides insomnia. Little flames were already licking at the corners of his mind, cataloging the fact that even through her jacket, he could feel her breast against his arm, or how she was teasing the fabric of his jumper with one finger.

Part of him wanted to pull the elastic from her hair and comb it out with his fingers. Bury his face in its soft waves, Push her down against the quilts and slam his cock so deep inside her that they both would forget about the world and its problems. Make love to her until there wasn’t a him or a her, just a them.

His prick stirred against his thigh.

Oh, fuck, no, none of that.

Jemma moaning, her body writhing—

Damn it. Just what he needed, a hard-on.

“C’mon,” she said, tugging at his sleeve. “Lie down.”

Bad idea, really bad idea. If Jemma got any part of herself anywhere near the front of his trousers, she was going to know he was sporting wood. “I’m not going to sleep, Simmons. Stop making me try.”

Her perfect lips frowned. “Fitz, honestly, I know this entire situation is rubbish, but I’m running out of patience.”

“I know!” Good, maybe she’d leave, and he could hurry to the loo and have a wank, then go and apologize so they could curl up together. He did want that. His arm around her while she was safely tucked against him.

Naked and spread out beneath—

Damn it. His mind was a cesspool.

She looked up at him, her face faintly flushed with exasperation. “I’m trying my best here. You’re not the only one that’s upset about everything.” Her eyes were glassy like she was close to tears.

“Simmons—”

“And now it’s like you’re pushing me away! You’re the only thing that’s familiar, and I feel like I’ve done something wrong to the point that you don’t even want me with you.”

Crap.

She closed her eyes and started to draw away from him, but he caught her wrist. He couldn't let her think he didn’t want her with him.

“No, that’s not—” he started.

“Then what is it? You’ve been acting odd lately as it is, and I don’t know why. Fitz, I need you. Please, what—”

There weren’t words, not for how he felt about her. Jemma Simmons was his universe.

He showed her instead.

Turning towards her, Fitz leaned close and pressed his lips to hers.

He was kissing Jemma.


	2. One More Day

Jemma didn’t know what was happening. Fitz’s lips were on hers and his hand curled around her waist.

She…she…

Her brain whirred, but then everything fell into place like the tumblers of a lock clicking open one after another.

Fitz acting peculiar, especially when she talked to Trip. The way Fitz had been looking at her. How he’d been making an effort to impress her. His actions, coupled with the way she felt every time she saw him: warm and happy and so much better than when she was without him, made her arrive at an impossible to ignore conclusion.

She was in love with her best friend.

He was in love with her.

Fitz made a sad sound and started to lean away. She hadn’t been returning the kiss, too shocked with her realizations, and now he must think she didn’t want to. Which wouldn’t do at all. Surging forward, Jemma wrapped an arm around his shoulders and kissed him wildly. She knocked them over in her eagerness, Fitz landing on his back with her half on top of him. He felt wonderful under her, solid and warm.

They really should talk, but right now they had no time. Jemma had to let him know he wasn’t alone, even if she was terrified by how deeply her feelings seemed to go, along with how long she’d been having them.

Fitz wrapped his arms around her and kissed her back, his eyes closed tight as though she might disappear if he peeked. To make things easier, she straddled his hips, and he bucked up underneath her.

She squeaked. That was his cock. Hard. Very hard. Lust bloomed deep in her belly, like it’d been waiting for something to trigger it and could now show itself. Her toes curled.

Fitz gasped, then shrank back from her, turning his head. “Sorry, sorry, Simmons, I—” He wasn’t getting away that easy. She dropped her hips and ground against him, moaning. His eyes snapped back to hers and she kissed him again, nibbling at his bottom lip until he opened his mouth and she could plunge her tongue between his lips.

His answering groan made her heart soar. Jemma mapped the topography of his mouth, seeking bits of him that’d been hidden before. Like behind his front teeth, or the underside of his tongue. Lazily, she stroked the tip of her tongue there, teasing him. He whimpered and humped against her. She needed to be touching more of him.

All of him.

She tugged at his jumper until practicalities forced them to break the kiss so he could pull it over his head.

Jemma shed her jacket, the room too warm for it anyway and what she wanted was skin against skin.

With a huff she moved to the side and Fitz whimpered, reaching for her. “Naked, now,” she said attacking the front of her trousers. He did as he was told, his fingers flying over his buttons and yanking off his tie. She removed everything, even her bra and knickers. Fitz pushed his jeans down. His eyes flicked to her, widened, but then he snagged the waistband of his pants and took them off along with the rest.

She was already slick, but the sight of him, lying naked on the sheets, his cock arching up onto his belly with the head flushed deep red, was driving her barmy. She could feel how wet she was getting from the sight.

When she went to straddle him again, Fitz stopped her.

“Jemma.” Fitz’s voice was rough and his face ruddy. “If this is…pity, or, or—”

She grabbed one of his hands and directed it between her legs. “Does that feel like pity?” He moaned as his fingers swept over her pussy, then slipped between her labia to circle her clit. She bit her lip and mewled.

“If…if…this is only one time, I don’t…” Fitz could barely speak, which made her proud.

“There will be many times, if I have anything to say about it,” she assured him.

He smiled broadly and relaxed, his hand sliding from her clit to test her opening. He pressed two fingers in and she had to muffle a yell. His eyes sought hers, his expression unsure, and she reminded herself that as little experience as she had with sex, he probably had less, though she assumed he was read up on the theory.

“So good,” she said, rolling her hips as he fingered her, his gaze darting from her face, to her breasts, to her pussy, and back again.

“This is happening?” Fitz said, his tone pleading.

“Yes. Very much so.” His brows went up, but then Jemma removed his hand from her—Fitz stuck his fingers in his mouth—and straddled him again. This really was happening, and it made an absurd amount of sense, which was ridiculous. When had she fallen in love? Had it happened gradually? Or had it been the first moment she’d talked to him, when she’d felt as if she would know him forever?

All she understood now was that she needed him. All of him. His kind heart, brilliant mind, and warm skin. Carefully, she stretched out on top of him, pressing them together from toes to forehead. Jemma had her arms under his shoulders and he had one hand on her back with the other cradling her cheek. He guided her lips to his, and she moaned at the taste of herself on his tongue. Her breasts rubbed against his chest, her nipples tingling at the contact.

The hand on her back glided down to cup and squeeze her arse. Fitz’s fingers snuck over until he was brushing her pussy again. His cock pressed against her hip.

Jemma broke the kiss. “I need you inside me,” she whispered.

Fitz nodded.

She was rather chuffed when he didn’t try to roll her over, just looked at her with awe as she slowly straightened up, her knees on either side of his hips. She guided his hand to her breast, and the awe became something close to worship.

His thumb grazed a taut peak, and she arched to press her chest toward him. “I like that,” she said in encouragement, and Fitz—bless him—picked up on her meaning and began playing with her nipple, rolling it between his clever fingers.

He was so busy with her tit that when she lifted herself up, he didn’t seem to figure out what she was doing until she fisted his prick.

His palms gripped her hips, and she watched his face as she lowered herself onto him. His brow furrowed and his chest heaved as his gaze locked onto where their bodies were joined.

She kept going, grunting with the stretch, until his cock was completely inside her.

“Jemma,” he said, and there was so much meaning in that single word. Two syllables, but it was all she needed to understand him. It was the same for her, like she’d come home.

She moved shakily at first, raising and lowering herself with Fitz’s grip helping to guide her.

His cock slid easily in and out of her body, and she picked up speed as she became more comfortable.

Part of her wanted to throw her head back and close her eyes and get lost in the heat and friction of their lovemaking, but the look on Fitz’s face was too enthralling for her to lose sight of. It was dear. He was dear. She never wanted to be without him again. Her inner muscles hugged his prick, not wanting to let him go every time she rose onto her knees.

Fitz was moaning, his gaze shifting over her again, as if trying to memorize details, from how the lips of her pussy were pushed wide by his cock to how her breasts bounced, to exactly how her eyelids fluttered.

Pleasure coiled in Jemma’s belly, and she clasped one of Fitz’s forearms as she slid the other hand down to her clit. Fitz groaned and thrust up into her, nearly unseating her. She clamped her knees and rode him harder, making him grunt.

The muscles of her thighs quivered. For an impossible moment she was hanging over the edge of the cliff, but then she fell into rapture. She cried out, still frantically moving. The hardness of Fitz’s cock hitting the right spot deep inside made colors burst behind her eyelids. The frantic rush of her blood was loud in her ears.

He was wildly bucking against her when she returned to reality.  Fitz’s hands clutched at her back, his fingertips digging into her skin. Jemma leaned forward, bracing her palms on his chest. Her body was already tightening back up, and her second climax followed rapidly after the first.

“Fitz!” she gasped as the orgasm exploded through her, the pleasure almost painful. Her inner muscles were pulsing fiercely, her arms trembling. Fitz’s hands caught her shoulders, and he surged up, kissing her deeply.

His cock was pistoning inside her, and in a flurry of thrusts Fitz came, prick jerking as he spent himself. He grunted softly with the pulses before collapsing back onto their makeshift bed.

Jemma stretched, arching her back, and Fitz made an appreciative sound, which caused her to giggle, and he chuckled.

“Snuggles?” he asked when she looked at him again.

“The will absolutely be snuggling.”

He grinned, and somehow they untangled themselves enough for Jemma to grab a nearby towel, clean herself and Fitz, and lie down with him after tossing it into a corner. He spooned her from behind, an arm around her middle.

“Not going to let you go,” he said, pressing a kiss to a sensitive spot by her ear.

“I hope not. I need my boyfriend.”

“And where’s he at?” The tone was light and teasing.

Jemma glanced over her shoulder at Fitz. “He’d better be right here.”

“He is.” Fitz held her tight as they settled their heads on the pillow. His toes ran over the side of her foot, and she hugged them with hers.

Someday they’d have a real bed to share, and a reality that wasn’t shattered, but for now she’d hold on to the person who still gave her hope. Fitz.

****

Coulson scrubbed a hand over his face. May was sitting in a chair, looking at the feeds from the other bases that Talbot and his men had claimed.

“He’s going to be here soon,” Coulson said.

“What about—” She gestured at the screen where he’d just watched himself say he was abandoning the project that had eventually saved his life. For a high price.

“There’s not time for that now. We—” An alert popped up on his tablet, and he scooped it up. “It’s Skye.”

“Where?” May was immediately by his side. Where she belonged. He owed her an apology, sooner or later.

“They’re headed for the east coast.” He opened the file and skimmed it. “And then on to…Paris?”

“Why Paris?”

“Hell if I know. Maybe Ward really likes croissants.” Or Skye was trying to give the team time to find her. “Can that Quinjet you commandeered get us there ahead of them?”

May nodded. “It’s fueled and ready to take off. We’ll fly a more northern route. We’ll make it, if we leave now.”

“Understood, go start the engines.” Coulson stood and shook Trip’s shoulder. He’d fallen asleep sitting on a couch. “We’ve got to run. Daisy’s on her way to Paris with Ward.”

 Trip hopped up. “Where’s Fitz-Simmons?”

“According to their badges they’re in a closet and haven’t moved for a while. Let’s get them and blow this popsicle stand.”

Trip hurried behind Coulson as he headed to the space his scientists had picked to crash in. If Ward had done anything to hurt Daisy, he was going to wish he was already dead by the time Coulson finished with him.

The mop-up crew would need a sponge to wipe him off the pavement.

Only there were no more mop-up crews.

Coulson shook his head. He had to remember it was just his team now with no backup.

He yanked open the closet door and Fitz sat bolt upright with a yell from the bed he and Jemma must have cobbled together. He didn’t have a shirt on, which confused Coulson. He would have sworn Fitz slept in a button down and tie.

Jemma had pulled the blanket over her head.

“We’ve got to go!” Coulson said, waving an impatient hand. “I don’t care how tired you are. We know where Skye is headed with Ward and Talbot’s going to storm this base any minute.” Neither Fitz nor Jemma moved. “What’s the hold up?”

Trip tugged at Coulson’s jacket. “How about we let them get dressed?”

“What?” He watched in confusion as Trip gave Fitz a thumbs up and Fitz blushed bright red. Why weren’t they wearing any clothes? He blinked, and realization settled in.

Fitz and Jemma had figured themselves the hell out.

“You have one minute,” he snapped and tried to walk with dignity out of the closet. Trip shut the door behind him before he burst out laughing. “It’s not a good time for them to start something,” Coulson grumbled.

“Man, those two started something almost ten years ago. Let them have their fun while the world’s ending. They’re probably much more relaxed now.”

Coulson crossed his arms and sighed.

Jemma and Fitz tumbled out of the room a moment later, with Jemma trying to pat Fitz’s hair into some semblance of normal. “We’re ready,” she said with a wide smile.

Trip chuckled. “Told you.”

They hurried through the base. Coulson kept glancing towards the ceiling, expecting the alarm at any minute.

“Where’s Skye?” Fitz asked as they walked up the loading ramp of the jet.  

“She’s heading to Paris. May can get us there close to the same time,” Coulson said.

May’s voice came over the comms from the cockpit. “New problem, I picked up a hint of something from the sensors on the Bus. I think Deathlock is with them.”

“Terrific,” Coulson said, buckling himself in.

Fitz and Jemma already had a tablet out and were talking in hushed tones.

“Guys?” Coulson asked.

Fitz glanced up. “We heard, and we’re on it.”

Coulson closed his eyes. His team of one pilot, a probably good guy, and two horny scientists had better be up to the task.

“Special forces are on the ground,” May reported as they sped away from the base. “We would have known in about fifteen minutes.”

“I hope they enjoy their empty rooms,” he said. “And leave us the hell alone.”

****

“It’ll work,” Fitz insisted from where he sat on the floor, soldering parts together and trying not to burn his fingers. An endeavor made more difficult by the jet hitting occasional patches of turbulence.  Beside him, Jemma mixed the formula that would render Deathlock unconscious. It’d be delivered by the dart he was tinkering with. The dart also needed to pack an electrical punch to overwhelm the cyborg components and give the sedative a chance to take effect.

“Our plan relies on us being able to shoot him with the dart, and Ward with an ICER. That a lot of maybes,” Jemma said, pointing the obstacles he already knew about. Which annoyed him because he didn’t have a ready solution.  

He sighed. “Skye will help. She’ll get them to a crowded place where it’ll be easy to get close without being seen.”

“It’ll work,” Coulson chimed in.

“I hope you’re right. Both of you.” Jemma said, peering at Coulson through her safety goggles. How did she mange to look adorable even in lab gear? A highlight reel of Jemma eagerly snogging and shagging him stampeded through his mind. She turned towards him and her gaze caught his. Jemma smiled and blushed as if she could read his thoughts, but he wouldn’t mind if she did. She was his girlfriend, and he could think about her girly bits all he wanted.

As soon as possible, Fitz planned going to shower her boobs with all the loving attention they deserved.

Trip cleared his throat. “Work now, guys, dopey looks later.”

Right.

He returned to the triggering mechanism for the dart, and Jemma glanced at her watch and then the mixture she was making.

“Have you ever been to Paris?” Jemma asked him.

Fitz shook his head. “Never had a reason.”

“Me either. I always hoped to attend a conference there, but there never got the chance. I did go to one in Dublin.”

“Did you drink anything good?”

“I found the most local pub possible and ordered the darkest stout they had. It tasted delicious.”

He sighed. “I presented at an engineering one in Oslo. I had reindeer for dinner, but nothing beer-wise to write home about.”

The last bit of soldering finished, he turned off the iron and held up the dart, testing the mechanism. It triggered perfectly.

“I should state that I’m not eating snails.” Fitz raised a brow at her as she shook the mixture in the tube.

“They’re actually quite good fried up in butter and garlic. You should try, I really think…” Jemma trailed off as she glanced at him, then wrinkled her nose. “You’re terrible.”

He laughed. “I thought you’d judge me for that one.” Her smile appeared pleased, thankfully, rather than exasperated.

“Of course I do. And now I have leverage when it comes to getting you to try new things.”

“I bet you can be pretty persuasive, if you want to be.” Her dark eyes held all the secrets of the universe and Fitz could imagine a great many ways she could convince him to try almost any kind of food. Or try anything else, for that matter.

Jemma licked her lips, and he swayed towards her, entranced.

“Guys,” Coulson said, breaking the spell. “Work.”

Right.


	3. Break Free

“I’ve always wanted to do this,” Jemma said as she hurried up the stairs of the Eiffel Tower.

Fitz groaned. “Really?” She looked over her shoulder at him. “Because this is a bloody lot of stairs. And there’s a perfectly good lift we could have used.”

“You know we couldn’t. We’d be sitting ducks.”

He sighed. “Why did Skye pick the top of a public landmark, anyway?”

“Small confined space, lots of people,” Trip huffed. His ICER was in his hand, the one Fitz had insisted he carry when Trip had been assigned to take out Ward. May had the dart and launcher meant to incapacitate Deathlock. “Safety.”

Another message had come in from Skye an hour ago, giving coordinates and a timeframe.

Coulson was in the lead, grim-faced as they clanged their way quickly upward.

When they reached the top, she slipped her hand into Fitz’s as they mingled with the crowd.

They were halfway around observation deck when Jemma spotted Ward. She ducked with Fitz behind a support beam as he radioed the location to Trip. “First shot, it has to be the first shot,” Fitz emphasized into the mic.

“I know,” Trip replied. “Just make sure he’s not looking towards me.”

“On it,” Fitz said.

Jemma peeked around the beam.

“Is this going to take much longer?” Ward snapped at Skye, who was hunkered down against the outer wall. Her laptop sat in her lap.

“Fifteen minutes. I’m sorry, the processor is so slow. I need to upgrade.” She was darting glances at the crowd as well as working on the hack.

“Skye needs to know we’re here,” Jemma whispered. “So she can stop making him angry by stalling.” Fitz’s face was pained. She squeezed his fingers. “Don’t think of him as Ward, just a monster that looks like Ward.” Fitz sighed, but nodded. “I can hardly believe it either, but Skye is in danger and we need to save her.”

Ward shifted and looked the opposite way of Jemma and Fitz.

“Now,” Jemma said, and Fitz darted out from behind the beam. Skye glanced up, and her eyes went wide.

She mouthed Fitz’s name, but then Ward’s head was swiveling, and Jemma didn’t know what else to do except launch herself at Fitz and kiss him with her hands on his cheeks, hopefully blocking Ward’s view as they slipped behind the beam again.

“I’ve also always wanted to do that,” Jemma said once they were out of sight.

Fitz blinked. “Snog me?”

She kissed the corner of his mouth. “Kiss at the top of the Eiffel Tower. That it’s with you just makes it better.”

He perked up, then appeared to remember they were in mortal peril and his face fell.

“Did you see that?” Ward asked. Jemma’s heart leaped into her throat.

Skye scoffed. “A couple of tourists sucking face? Seems normal.”

“I could have sworn—”

“I’m almost done,” Skye cheerfully announced. “We can get those specs to Coulson in no time.”

“Yeah,” Ward drawled. “Sure.”

Trip’s voice came over the comms. “Distract him,” he hissed. “He’s looking around too much, and I can’t get close.”

Jemma pulled her shoulders back.

“No!” Fitz yelled as she walked out of cover.

Ward’s head snapped towards her, and his face became enraged. Fitz darted in front of her, holding a hand back towards her like he was going to bodily stop Ward if he came after her. Ward didn’t run towards Jemma. Instead he turned and grabbed Skye, yanking her up by her arm.

“What did you do!” he yelled in her face as he drew his fist back.

Skye kicked at his shin while Fitz and Jemma ran for her, but Trip got there first. He grabbed Ward’s wrist and spun him around, punching him in the face. The ICER fired in the next second and people screamed as Ward fell.

“No time,” Coulson yelled as Skye kicked Ward’s side. “We’ve got to go. Before the authorities or Hydra get here.”

They ran for the stairs and the trip down seemed much quicker than the climb up. Then it was down the maintenance stairs to the base of the Tower. It seemed to take forever, and Jemma was panting when they reached the bottom. There were sirens drawing closer as they exited. Deathlock was waiting for them as well.

Jemma yelled, and Fitz embraced her, shielding her as Deathlock raised his arm. He hesitated, his eyes pained.

“I don’t have a choice,” he said, but then crumpled to the ground, jerking as the charge from the dart in his side overwhelmed his system. His eyes closed as the drug took effect.

“Run,” Jemma said. “I don’t know how long that’ll hold him.”

They raced to the maintenance van that Trip had commandeered, and threw themselves into the back as Trip gunned the engine.

Once they were a few blocks over, everyone relaxed.

“Thank you,” Skye said, putting a hand on Trip’s knee.

“Ah, girl, that was nothing.”

Jemma, sitting next to Fitz on the floor of the van, couldn’t tramp down how giddy she was feeling. “It was brilliant how you got the message to us.”

Skye leaned back in the passenger seat with a sigh. “I had no idea if that was going to work, but I’m really glad it did.”

“Did he hurt you?” May asked, and Skye shook her head.

Fitz audibly swallowed. “Or, uh, make you do anything you didn’t want to?”

“Nah, well, he made me sleep on the couch on the Bus so he could keep an eye on me, but he was too busy being an evil asshole to do anything else.”

There was a beep from Coulson’s pocket and he took out his phone. “It’s Maria Hill,” he said. “She’s in Paris…and she has the Bus.” Everyone relaxed. “Ward and Deathlock disappeared, no surprise. We’ll get them eventually.” Jemma nodded. “And acting director Hill has secured us hotel accommodations.” He gave Trip the address.

“How do you know your way around Paris?” Jemma asked Trip as he turned a corner, dodging traffic.  

Skye turned in her seat and spoke before Trip could respond. “Better question,” she said, fixing Jemma with a glare.  “Were you and Fitz kissing?”

****

“This is a really nice hotel,” Fitz said, staring up at the gilded crown molding. Jemma was holding his hand, and the whole world felt a little better.

Trip was holding Skye against him. She looked exhausted, but relieved. So did Trip. Fitz wanted to laugh at how jealous he’d been, thinking Jemma had been after Trip. Obviously, he had a thing for Skye and Jemma was with Fitz. He was hoping to get her alone soon, the adrenaline from the rescue was decidedly turning into something else.

May and Coulson were whispering together in a corner, along with Hill, who’d been waiting for them at the hotel.

“Very posh.” Jemma held up the key Coulson had given them and squinted at the number on the tag. “I think this is printed with actual gold.”

He glanced over at her, and she looked up at him and smiled. “Just the one key?” he asked.

Jemma bit her lip, and he couldn’t wait any longer, tugging her hand and leading her to the lift. It chimed open, and by the time the doors closed she was already snogging him. The walls of the lift were mirrored, and he closed his eyes because seeing himself and Jemma tangled together was almost too impossible to believe.

The doors opened on the top floor, and Jemma grabbed his tie and pulled him, grinning, down the hallway with its marble floor to their room. Inside was just as lavish, there was even Champagne in an ice bucket, but he didn’t care.

They tumbled onto the puffy cream-colored quilt of the large bed, Jemma under him and their mouths still glued together. She pushed his cardigan off his shoulders, and he sent it sailing to the far corner of the room and worked his shoes off, which hardly made a sound as they hit the plush carpet.

Jemma’s fingers loosened his tie, then opened the buttons of his shirt. Somehow, she managed to get it off him without removing his tie. He grabbed the loop, but she stopped him.

“Leave it,” she purred. “But trousers off. And pants.”

He scooted back and stood up, his hands going to his belt. He had to look down at it to get it undone, and carefully lower his zip over his already hard cock, but then he shoved his kit down and off his legs. His mouth went dry when he stood back up because Jemma’s clothes had disappeared, and she was lying with her shoulders propped up on the pillows, her hand toying with a breast and her eyes fixed on him.

It was a lot of lust to be directed at him, and Fitz had to stop himself from turning around and making sure there wasn’t some more attractive bloke standing behind him. One he’d have to knock out because he wasn’t sharing her.

Fitz crawled back onto the bed and bent down to kiss the tops of her feet because every part of Jemma deserved attention. She parted her knees as he moved up and his gaze landed on the slick lips of her pussy. Every part of her.

She giggled as he ensconced himself between her thighs and smiled at first her and then her folds, but that laughter turned to a moan as soon as his tongue flicked over her clit. Part of his mind was screaming in excitement—actually, that might be his cock—because this was Jemma. Another part was freaking out because he had no idea what he was doing, but there was a first time for everything, and most of him was just filled with happiness.

Jemma was mewling and wiggling and sounding like she was enjoying herself, so he continued his exploration of her pussy from the hard bud of her clit, down to her opening, and over the plump lips.

Abruptly, she stilled and gasped. “Oh my!”

He didn’t think she’d come, and he was worried he’d done something wrong. He glanced at her face only to find her staring upwards. “Is everything okay?” he asked.

She nodded, and he tilted his head back to see what was so interesting.

There was a mirror on the ceiling.

That couldn’t possibly be him between Jemma’s splayed legs. He had to be dreaming.

There was a tug on his neck. It got more insistent. Jemma had her fingers around the knot of his tie and was directing his mouth back to her pussy.

He obliged, because that seemed real. Though she did taste like a dream. Sweet, savory, and Simmons. His eyes went back to her face for a moment and she was still watching them in the mirror. That was something to file away for later.

Her hips jerked as he focused on her clit and pushed two fingers inside her. He curled them slightly and worked her as he licked and sucked.

Jemma shuddered and moaned. Her fingers threaded into his hair and gripped him as her hips lifted and churned. She was humping his face. With a loud gasp she came, her channel pulsing around his fingers.

He was nearly beside himself with joy, then sputtered as she let go of his hair, grabbed the tie, and hauled him up her body.

Her lips were hungry on his, and somehow, he managed to get his prick in position. Grunting, he slowly pushed into her. Her body was welcoming, and he was entirely sure he never, ever, wanted to be anywhere else again.

He was home.

****

Jemma sighed with satisfaction as Fitz thrust his cock to the hilt inside her. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, kissing him deeply, then pressing her cheek to his and opening her eyes.

Fitz braced his knees and rocked his hips, and in the mirror overhead she watched as his rear flexed with each stroke.

Bloody hell, that was a turn on. Just seeing Fitz and her together was a turn on because they looked even better together than she’d imagined, but watching his arse as he fucked her was making her toes curl, and her belly tighten.

Gripping the knot of his tie again—brilliant idea on her part to have him leave it on—she pulled his lips back to hers as she worked a hand between their bodies to rub at her clit. It didn’t take much before she gasped and came again. The pleasure was a lightning bolt of bliss that sent sparks flying from where Fitz was pistoning into her to sizzle in her fingers and toes.

When she could breathe again, she opened her eyes and moved her hand from her body to grip his bum, making him moan as he smushed his face against her throat. He was sucking and nipping, and she’d probably end up with hickies, which she would do absolutely nothing to cover because she was proud and thrilled to be with Fitz.

Even if Skye would tease them mercilessly.

Fitz pressed his forehead to her cheek, and she could feel it furrow. Under her hands, his back and rear tensed as well.

“Jemma,” he whispered, his hips moving raggedly. He pushed himself up until he was looking into her face, then cupped her cheek. “My Jemma.”

“Yes.” She said, kissing his cheeks and nose and lips. “I love you, Fitz.”

His hips snapped forward, and he came, emptying himself into her with a cry. She hugged him tight as he shook from the force of his climax.

He found her lips again, kissing her fiercely. “I love you too. I love you too, so bloody much.” He sagged against her and she wrapped her legs around him as well, holding him close.

She could have stayed that way forever, but Fitz finally moved off her with a groan, ending up on his side next to her. She rolled to face him.

He was watching her intently and reached out to tuck her hair behind her ear.

“That was very nice,” she said. “I’m not even sure I want to move to clean up.”

“Me either, I—” He broke off, and his eyes went very wide.

“Fitz?”

“We…we…condom?” he squeaked, and she rolled her eyes.

“You’re just now thinking about that?”

“You’re very distracting!”

“Now it’s my fault?”

He sat up and ran a hand through his hair. “Whatever happens, I’ll be right there. You know that, right?”

She patted his leg and imagined tiny faces with his eyes, which would be wonderful, someday. “Yes, I know, but calm down. I can’t imagine anyone else I would prefer to father my children, but not yet. We haven’t been in the field an entire year, there’s a lot still to do…well, if there’s still a SHIELD after all this. Anyway, you know I wouldn’t want to depend on our irregular schedules for taking a pill, so I have an IUD.”

“Thank god.” He flopped backward, and she laughed, but then his nose wrinkled up and he looked at her. “That’s something you want? A family? With me?” He sounded more incredulous with each question.

“Yes, with you. In the future.”

“That would mean we’d still be together.”

“Yes, Fitz. It would.”

He grinned happily, and she tugged on the tie again, pulling him towards her so she could peck his lips.

There was a loud beep from Fitz’s rucksack, which had been left on a chair by whoever had carried up what passed for their luggage. His eyes widened, and he scrambled out of bed.

“What is it?” she asked, sitting up.

He pulled out his tablet and came to sit on the edge of the bed, and she scooted until she could peek over his shoulder. It looked like a map of Paris, with two dots on it.

“Got you,” he said.

“What am I looking at?”

“I didn’t want to tell you, in case there was an issue, but I included a tracking device in the dart we used on Deathlock and the ICER round for Ward. They had a delay, so the trackers wouldn’t be detected at first if either of them scanned for it, but the transponders just came online.”

She kissed his cheek. “And they’ll lead us straight to Garrett.”

“Us, or the entire blasted US Army. We need to show Coulson and Hill.” Fitz jumped to his feet and headed for the door, his eyes glued to the tablet.

“Fitz!” she called with a laugh, and he turned back in confusion, his hair mussed and his tie hanging unevenly over his bare chest.  He’d never looked more handsome. “Clothes!” He glanced down in horror and she laughed again.

Their life together was never going to be boring.

****

_The Next Morning_

Coulson sipped his expresso as he read the morning headlines. SHIELD might still be in disarray, but Hydra had been gutted by Talbot and Hill, and rebuilding could start.

Seemed like the perfect time for a vacation. For at least a few days.

May was reading the paper across from him. They were seated at a tiny table outside a Parisian café. The sky overhead blue and the people on the sidewalk hurrying to and from work like it was any normal day.

Fitz-Simmons were at another table, nearly sitting in each other’s laps while Jemma fed Fitz bites of croissant, and they both looked happier than he’d ever seen them. It was almost annoying, especially coupled with the dark hickies on Simmons’ neck, but he couldn’t begrudge them their joy at finally realizing what everyone else had already known about them.  

Skye and Trip were trying to play it cooler, and were looking at their phones, but under the table, they were playing footsie and Coulson had no idea who they thought they were fooling.

May lowered her paper. “What now?”

“A few days R and R, I think. They earned it.”

May raised a brow.

“Us too.” He leaned forward. “I thought I would go visit a castle. We don’t have those in America. Want to join me?”

“Maybe?”

“Do you know what’s happens if you get downsized from a castle?”

May’s other brow went up.

“You’ve been de-moated.”

She smacked him with her newspaper.

“I deserved that.”

May almost smiled. “Yes, you did. Now please tell me this castle has a SHIELD base under it.”

“Maybe.”


End file.
